Living the Legend
by Marie McKinnon
Summary: [complete] All the preparations have been made for the three reincarnates. Arthur, Morgan, and Lancelot have prepared themselves to live their legend. Sequel to
1. Secrets

Living the Legend Chapter I: Secrets Marie McKinnon  
  
Mrs. Weasley and the others were so numbly shocked the next morning that they hardly noticed when Ginny slipped out the back door into the garden, a small leather-bound book clutched tightly in her hand. Draco followed her after a little while, still worried that she would do something rash.  
  
Searching the grounds for her, he didn't see anyone even remotely resembling a pretty fifth year. Then, of course, he noticed a suspiciously silver tree that thrashed about violently, and looked up between its branches for a glimpse of red hair. He berated himself for letting Ginny out of his sight and letting her do something so obviously stupid. What if the Weasleys decided to come outside? What if they had neighbours? And, more importantly, what if Death Eaters were patrolling, watching for proof of Ginny's power? He rose steadily in the air, ducking the flailing branches. It registered in his mind that the tree was a weeping willow, which didn't seem as remotely ironic as it would have, were he not furious with certain witchlings.  
  
He finally saw a delicate red ponytail lash out with the tree's limbs. Weaving through them, he watched her scribble furiously in her "little black book," forehead furrowed. His landing was ignored, but not purposefully; she was so absorbed in her writing that she didn't see, hear, or feel his sudden appearance.  
  
"Lovely day, isn't it?" He said. "Perhaps your family should speak to the Ministry about this silver tree, though. I'm rather sure it's a rarity."  
  
Ginny's tense muscles overreacted at the speech, causing her to slip backwards off of the branch. The willow's limbs ceased moving immediately as silver sparks created a pillow to catch her and slowly bring her back to her seat. She snapped her fingers and the sparks vanished, probably, Draco thought, back into her blood. When she'd fallen she'd released her hold on the leather-bound book, which he had pocketed on a hunch.  
  
"Well, good morning to you, too," she gasped, catching her breath. "Was it that obvious?"  
  
"The tree was lashing out at everything, howling, moaning, trying to kill people, and it was silver," he replied flatly. "No, of course it wasn't obvious. Your family's inside, don't worry," he answered to her unspoken question.  
  
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I just - I just - I didn't think-"  
  
He laughed, an unusual thing for him to do. "That was obvious as well."  
  
*  
  
After a very quiet meal of roasted chicken the mass of Weasleys went outside to play and attempt to forget their sorrows. No one seemed to notice that Draco wasn't accompanying them; he remained locked up in the attic with the ghoul, who was temporarily silent. He fished the small book out of his pocket, looking at it from all angles and watching the light, made oily by the leather cover, play across its surface. It took a great initiative to open it, but he managed it, looking at the rounded letters filling the front page.  
  
THIS BELONGS TO VIRGINIA WEASLEY. ANYONE WHO IS *NOT* VIRGINIA WEASLEY SHOULD NOT HAVE OPENED IT IN THE FIRST PLACE! Thank you for your cooperation.  
  
He couldn't help but smile. The paper, creamy in the half-light, almost shouted that the words written on it were not intended to be spoken or seen by anyone other than, of course, Virginia Weasley. Flipping through the first few pages, he caught snatches of poetry, dialogues, and several very good drawings. His mind reeled over her talent. A beautiful, though upsetting, drawing of a photograph's image being washed away was accompanied by a depressing stanza, the second in her previous poem.  
  
"Pictures are yellowing inside their frames/ spidery writing obscuring the names/ of the pictured ones laughing/ and playing their games," he read aloud, the words fitting perfectly in the rhythm of his speech. They hung in the air for a moment, then vanished.  
  
He turned more pages, halted, and stared in amazement. A perfect likeness of himself smiled back at him lazily, leaning against a stone wall and holding a long, glimmering blade. He pinched himself to be sure that he was still awake, not dreaming, because his image on the page was colored and drawn to such perfection that he couldn't be sure it wasn't real. Written in a fancy script at the bottom was a tiny inscription, labeling the person not as Draco, but simply as "Dream Knight." So she had had dreams as well, he thought, hoping that hers were clearer than his misty, cloudy visions of lightning and thunder.  
  
The newest entry, dated July 5, 1997, was splotched with tears. It had been written much more quickly than many of the previous ones, the words almost illegible because of their sloppiness. He tried to make out the idea of the entry, squinting down at the page, but he didn't understand it at first. Then he hit himself over the head, annoyed at his idiocy, and waved his hand over the page. It was still tear-stained, still sloppy, but it looked like English.  
  
D*** Voldemort (he read), d*** him to Hell! Never will I call him You-Know-Who, because that gives him the pleasure of knowing he is feared. I will deny him all the pleasure I can, because he has denied me the pleasure and the luxury of spending time with my family and friends. How did he do that? If he had only captured them, I would have done anything to get them back from him. But no, he had to take them to the one place I can't return from. Death. How dare he take others' lives when his has continued for far too long, when his is controlled by a spell? He has only a semblance of life, not even a true one, and when he doesn't live, he has no right to kill.  
  
I live, and I will kill him. His spell can only last so long, and when the time is right, my dagger will shatter that spell into millions of tiny shards. Then I will remove what remains of his miserable heart and toss it, still beating, on the floor, as he has done to me.  
  
"Bloody Hell," Draco murmured into the previously empty attic, now full to bursting with Ginny's fury and loathing. That was right, he realized. They'd all forgotten, idiots that they were, that Voldemort had possessed her in her first year and used her to open the Chamber of Secrets. To do that, he'd had to pour secrets into her, and they hadn't vanished with the destruction of the diary. Which meant that she still harbored some memories and, more importantly, knowledge of his weaknesses.  
  
The door creaked open a crack, just wide enough for Ginny to slip into the attic. "I thought you might have that," she said into the taut silence. There was a slight edge in her voice that told him that he had made a mistake. "Find it interesting?"  
  
"You draw beautifully," he replied, changing the subject adroitly. "Did they all come from dreams or were you just sketching from real life?"  
  
She leaned her shoulders against the rough wooden wall, arms crossed. "Don't change the subject. You read the last entry, didn't you?" Looking at him from under her eyelashes, she watched his visible nervousness and thought, for the thousandth time, how amazingly handsome he was. His dark gray polo shirt had the top buttons undone and his light summer trousers looked crisp and pressed. Elegant fingers turned the pages anxiously, trying to seem nonchalant.  
  
He stood in one fluid motion. "Do you know what your information could do for us?" He asked, handing her her diary reluctantly. "Voldemort would be dead much sooner if you told the Ministry. They'd send a special team out, do whatever was needed, and he'd be gone."  
  
"After what he's done to me," she hissed, "I want to be the one to kill him."  
  
Shaking his head, he asked "What about Harry? The first eleven years of his life were hell because of Voldemort. Don't you think he deserves to finish the b****** off because of that?"  
  
"Harry," she said, voice soft and dangerous, "never got to a place he thought he'd belong to and found himself instantaneously shunned. It took me years to get the Gryffindors to trust me, and as soon as I found friends, they were taken. Harry never knew his parents, so he was spared the pain of missing the care they'd given him. I've been given a small lifetime to meet and love people, and when I do, they're killed. Don't you think I should be able to avenge those deaths? Don't you think I should cut off his unnatural life as soon as possible so he doesn't cut off more?" She was ramrod straight, eyes cold and hard with icy anger.  
  
"And don't you think," Draco replied, "that I would rather die a thousand deaths than see you dead and know I could have at least helped?" He felt helpless, knowing that he wouldn't stop her from trying to save the world and feeling sure that she would be returned to him in a matchbox.  
  
"I'm sorry," she whispered, her anger having left her as quickly as it had come. "I can tell you what I know, but it has to wait until we get back to Hogwarts. Harry needs to hear it as well, and I don't think I could tell the story twice."  
  
A slow smile lit his pale face. "About that 'Dream Knight' picture. what sorts of dreams is he in?"  
  
"Well," she said slyly, "He's extremely--"  
  
She got no farther than that, attacked by a barrage of questions and several accusations of being mentally unfaithful. However, Draco remembered some of his dreams, and shut up before they could be brought to light. A moment later the ghoul came out and chased them downstairs, throwing random pipes and howling, voice less intimidating, they thought, than the shrill of Pansy Parkinson when she was told she'd done something wrong. Which, he recollected, was very often. 


	2. Unfaithful

Living the Legend Chapter II: Unfaithful Marie McKinnon  
  
Their summer vacation, ruined by Percy's untimely demise, had continued in a bleary, dreamlike state. No one really understood why he'd died except Ginny and Draco, who wouldn't risk even a small explanation. Mrs. Weasley entered into a furious bout of sewing and cooking, healing everyone else's ills before her own. When her daughter timidly suggested she take a short holiday and let someone else do the chores for a bit, she accepted gladly, promptly curling up on the sofa with a cheesy romance novel. Ron played endless games of chess against Bill and Charlie, numbly directing pieces and checking his brothers. The stereotypical couple isolated themselves from the others, their guilt eating away at their expressionless, blank stares.  
  
She promised him a full explanation of her Voldemort-diary experience on the evening they arrived at Hogwarts. After finding out the password from Hermione she would wait in Harry's room and relay the password mentally to Draco. From there it was simple. Or so she thought.  
  
"Hermione, wait!" Ginny called, dashing up the marble steps behind her. "What's the password?"  
  
"Dinglefritz," she replied and continued shepherding the first years into the portrait hole.  
  
~Dinglefritz,~ she told him, and wasn't prepared for the insulted reply.  
  
~What'd I do to you?~ He asked. ~I don't think I deserved that.~  
  
She crept up the boys' staircase cautiously, waiting for a moment to reply. ~It's the password. Dinglefritz.~ His quiet "oh" of surprise was lost on her. The large door creaked open despite her efforts to shush it by not putting extra stress on the hinges. Harry, as a prefect, had his own little chamber with a velvet curtained four poster, a desk, and a chair. A fire leapt upwards in the grate, its bright flashes filling the room with a flickering light.  
  
Her mind sped. How to explain it? Hearing voices on the stairs, she quickly shut the door and jumped onto the bed, closing the curtains. She didn't want to have to explain being in Harry's bedroom along with her already scheduled speech. Breathing very quietly, she waited, her stomach a tense knot. Her hands wove around themselves in anxiety until she hardened her resolve and held them still.  
  
Harry knew the door well enough to prevent it from creaking. His footsteps were barely audible in the carpeted room, and in a flicker of the fire, he saw a human figure sitting up on his bed, waiting. He didn't stop to think, but raced across the room as rapidly as the bolt of lighting cut into his forehead and pounced on the intruder, shoving her shoulders into the thick scarlet coverlet of his four poster.  
  
"Hello to you, too," Ginny gasped. All the wind had been knocked out of her with the sudden weight on her ribs and stomach. However, it was rewarded with the stunned look that came over Harry's face as he realised that Virginia Weasley was lying flat on his bed, chest heaving to get her breath back.  
  
He uttered a soft, appreciative "Damn." She tried to sit up, her loose, second-hand cardigan slipping off of her shoulders. Harry wasn't stupid, despite what was reported in Witch Weekly, and instantly snatched his opportunity. He held her gasping form to him and caught her mouth deftly, fumbling in the dark for more of her. His hot, moist breath on her face terrified her, and she writhed, trying to escape the strong arms that had snapped shut around her. She was trapped, frightened, struggling to keep the penetrating lips and arms at bay. Unrelenting kisses found her mouth repeatedly, keeping her breathless and unable to retaliate.  
  
Draco opened the door and looked in to see if he had the right room. There was Potter's Firebolt on the floor, and his name on the inside of the door. Ragged breaths caught his attention, and he suddenly saw them. Two dark shapes clung together desperately, one nearly flattening the other, obviously feminine, and kissing it without taking time to breathe. A gasp for oxygen, then a light "mmph" revealed the identity of Potter's current girlfriend. He should know that sound, he thought angrily, having heard it himself when having an unusually passionate snogging session with Ginny.  
  
As if to confirm it, Harry groaned in pleasure against her collar, which he'd been dragging his lips over. "Ginny," he moaned, hands creeping up the front of her shirt. "*Ginny.*"  
  
Anger flooded him, but not the cold, ruthless anger he was accustomed to. It was a painful fury, a silent tearing of his heart from the other veins and arteries in his body. Not even one of her magical daggers could have more cleanly or more excruciatingly killed all his hopes. He had been through physical pain, but that was only physical. The mental anguish tore at him from the inside and brought him to stalk out of Gryffindor Tower, close to tears for the first time in his life.  
  
Harry finally relented, letting her relax her tensed and screaming muscles at the violation. "Wow," he breathed. Then it struck him that the furious writhing and wriggling hadn't been meant to encourage him or bring him nearly to the point of tearing off her clothes, but had been a means of escape from the torture. He cringed, waiting for pain. It didn't come.  
  
"Open your eyes," she hissed. He did, and saw her, every facial muscle tight. "You're not worth punching, Potter. Rejoice in my self control, because it's all that's keeping you out of the Hospital Wing." She shoved him away with all her strength, smirking at the thud he made against the carpet.  
  
*  
  
She walked into the practise dungeon the next afternoon sagging under the weight of her anger with Harry. He hadn't arrived yet, so she and Draco were the only people present. A bright grin lit her face when she saw him, fair hair visible even in the dank, lightless dungeon. Leaping from the shadows, he caught her around the waist and crushed her to him. His kiss was rough, nearly bruising her lips with its intensity. She was so close, so painfully, exaltingly close, that he thought he was on fire. When he let her go, she panted, all hint of air having been stolen from her.  
  
"Was that as good as Potter, or better?" He demanded, voice as rough as his kiss had been.  
  
Ginny stared at him. "WHAT?"  
  
"Please, Ginny," he said, annoyed. "I saw you two last night. You seemed to be enjoying yourself. If you have an explanation, I'd love to hear it, by the way," he added. "I want to know what happened. Why I'm not good enough for you anymore. Or if I was somehow mistaken and Potter was snogging someone else to death, it would take a load off my mind, but be honest. I've never lied to you, and I have to believe you won't lie to me. So -- were you in Harry Potter's bedroom last night after dinner?"  
  
"Yes," she said coldly.  
  
"Did you leave his room after having a good long snog?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Well, I suppose I've asked all I needed to ask. I suppose I prefer that sort of encounter to the 'Oh, by the way, I'm sleeping with your worst enemy, he's much more handsome than you are.'"  
  
"Everything I've said before about that was true," she told him, voice unwavering.  
  
"I find that hard to believe," he said. "After all, you betrayed me with Harry Flipping Potter. I may be a tad eccentric, but that obviously wouldn't have been done by someone who loved me."  
  
At that precise moment Harry opened the door. "So sorry, what have I missed?"  
  
Ginny's glance of unmitigated hatred nearly shrivelled him into a Flobberworm's breakfast. She strode over to the door, opened it, and barely refrained from slamming it.  
  
"I see," he said. "Please don't tell me. I'd really rather not know what expletives she used."  
  
Draco didn't say a word. She hadn't even attempted to deny it and in some way save their all-too-perfect relationship. If Potter meant that much to her, who was he to stand in her way? Following her out the door, he slouched, hiding the hideous contortions of his face in a half-hearted endeavor to hold back his furious tears. 


	3. Oral Arguments

Living the Legend Chapter III: Oral Arguments Marie McKinnon  
  
She threw herself down onto her bed, an expression blacker than a thunderhead on her normally relaxed face. Lavender and Parvati, giggling together in the corner, turned to her in surprise.  
  
"Ginny, what's wrong?" One of them asked, eyes wide.  
  
Ginny didn't respond. She stared at one of the drawings she'd recently framed, a casually smirking Draco, and the tears began to well in her eyes. They'd been so happy, and Harry Flipping Potter had to ruin it with his bloody male hormones. He looked so alive in the picture, so enticingly insolent. Icy gray eyes looked right at her, almost right through her, and his delicate eyelashes could be seen as very fine lines underneath his perfectly arched eyebrows. As usual, soft white-blond hair tumbled in an organised chaos over his forehead. Seeing that superior half- smile brought her even closer to crying, but she forced it down.  
  
Lavender sat down on Ginny's bed and looked at her, trying to make a diagnosis. The drawing of Draco caught her eye with its sparkling eyes and light hair. She nodded to herself, picking it up and examining it.  
  
"Has Draco done anything to you?"  
  
Ginny gave up her wrath, sitting up, and relented. "Not really. He made a mistake, and it's kind of destroyed our relationship. He was very clear about it."  
  
Parvati, interested, asked "What did he make a mistake about?"  
  
"I went to talk to Harry about something and I knew Draco needed to be there and hear what I had to say, but I was standing in the shadows, so Potter jumped me. He realized who it was and started snogging me, which Draco saw, so I am now both extraordinarily angry and extraordinarily upset."  
  
"Does Draco know that?" Parvati wondered aloud.  
  
"I'm not stupid," she spat. "He won't believe me if I try to explain. The only one who could convince him is Potter, who probably won't do anything. It *is* to his advantage, after all."  
  
They both nodded in understanding. Lavender showed her best friend the drawing, murmuring about Ginny's talent. For a moment they put their heads together, then, smiling brightly, lay the frame on her velvet bedspread in front of her.  
  
"Who drew this?" Lavender asked.  
  
Ginny reached for her little black book and flipped it open to several other pages of sketches, pointing another Draco out as she told them about her artistic passion. Both girls oohed and ahhed over the boys she'd drawn, mostly the Harrys and Dracos. One, a caricature of McGonagall, set them to laughing so hard they almost cried.  
  
"Would you do me?" Parvati inquired, twiddling her plait. "I'd pay you for it."  
  
"That's brilliant! You could make money drawing portraits and caricatures for people. In the end you'd have enough money for some stress- relieving shopping," her friend giggled.  
  
"I draw for myself, not other people. I'll still draw you, if you want, though," she offered.  
  
"When you have time. Is there any way you can feel better?"  
  
Ginny smiled slowly, almost scarily. "I think I know just the thing."  
  
*  
  
"Hi, Harry," she whispered coquettishly, sliding into the seat next to him on the couch in the Common Room. He bent to peck her on the cheek and was stopped by a sudden qualm. Smoothing her skirt over her knees, she scooted over a little bit so she could more easily mutter in his ear.  
  
"Ginny, you look lovely," he finally managed.  
  
She shook her head modestly, then got down to business. "You arrived a bit late this afternoon to practise, so I suppose you may want to understand what the - er - fireworks were about," she continued smoothly. "You see, I was in your room last night to give some important information pertaining to our quest, which it was necessary for Draco to hear. He didn't quite get the information he wanted, however; he arrived while you were rather busy. I was made aware of that somewhat rudely, and we've taken some time apart. It will be forever apart unless you get your rear in gear and tell him the truth because the burden of explanation is on you, not me. You did something wrong. You betrayed him, not me. I didn't ask you to pounce on me, and I certainly didn't ask you to kiss me. In fact, I fought you, but you took no notice. So now it's your responsibility to tell Draco the truth."  
  
"Or what?" Harry asked, squirming slightly over this blunt order. "I see no advantages to me that way."  
  
"I will be considerably kinder to you if you make that confession."  
  
"That's something I can risk," he whispered, turning to kiss her full on the lips.  
  
She rose, a gleam in her eye. "I'm beginning to regret not wounding you before. Don't make me regret it any more, or you will begin to regret it yourself."  
  
Before she could make good her escape Dean came up to her with a question. "Is it true you and Malfoy've split up?"  
  
A casual "Yes, why?" brought him to his next question.  
  
"Would you consider coming dancing with me on the next Hogsmeade weekend?"  
  
She smiled happily. "I would enjoy that very much."  
  
*  
  
Dean, in a daze, went back up to his dormitory and flopped down onto his bed, making it creak.  
  
"What's up, then?" Seamus asked. He had been reading Ron's volumes of "The Adventures of Martin Miggs, the Mad Muggle" and hadn't been present to hear Dean's hazardous questions.  
  
Answering a question with a question, he taunted "Guess who's got a date for the dance at Hogsmeade?"  
  
"What? Are you going with Parvati?"  
  
Grinning, he shook his head.  
  
"Lavender?"  
  
"Unh-unh."  
  
"Hermione?"  
  
"Nope."  
  
Coming to the end of his list, Seamus risked "Neville?"  
  
Dean sat up in a flash, glaring. "What the hell d'you mean asking that? It's a girl, you daft twit! Besides, Neville's got a girlfriend. Hannah Abbott."  
  
"Well, who else is there?"  
  
"Try sixth years."  
  
It was Seamus' turn to sit up. "*Not* Ginny?"  
  
Dean, bursting with pride, nodded. "The one and only. She's just split up with that bugger Malfoy, so I thought I'd ask, and she said yes."  
  
"You lucky, lucky b******."  
  
"Yeah," he said dreamily. "I can hardly believe it myself."  
  
*  
  
A smile seemed plastered on her face. She danced up the stairs, down the girls' corridor, and into her bedroom, flopping down onto the bed with a small sigh of happiness. Lavender and Parvati looked up from the Teen Witch magazine they'd been discussing and grinned at each other, easily guessing what had happened.  
  
"Who is it?" They asked simultaneously.  
  
Startled out of her gleeful daze, Ginny blinked several times and rubbed her forehead. "Sorry, who's what?"  
  
"You've got a date to Hogsmeade, haven't you?" Parvati inquired. "Is it Harry?"  
  
"Honestly, that's not what I went downstairs to do. I reprimanded Harry for a bit and was coming back to the dorm when Dean--"  
  
"Ooooh!" They squealed, both having dated him before. "He's really sweet, Gin, you won't regret it."  
  
"--asked me if I'd split up with Draco," she continued, glaring down her nose in a very McGonagall-ish way.  
  
Lavender rolled her eyes. "Please don't tell me he didn't ask you to go with him. That would have been a bit thick, even for him."  
  
"Well, he did, actually."  
  
"And?" The seventh years demanded excitedly, leaning over the edge of the bed.  
  
Like most Weasleys, Ginny went red when she got embarrassed. "I said yes," she blurted, the tips of her ears unusually pink. She had never been shy about Draco, and didn't understand why the mere mention of someone else's name made her withdraw from her exuberance.  
  
"The dance is in two weeks," one of them said, checking a calendar on the wall. "We'll help you a bit. I noticed earlier that you don't have any makeup."  
  
"What would I need it for?"  
  
Lavender sighed in exasperation. "If you need to look that little bit special, it's perfect. Now, get yourself downstairs and sit with Dean. He'll be very pleased."  
  
Still squeamish, she did as she was told. Later, comfortably nestled on the couch with his arm supporting her head, she made polite conversation, all the time wondering about Draco's reaction to the newest turn of events. Of course, she would never have admitted that. Knowing she was the reincarnation of a famous witch had given her an unusual amount of arrogance and pride, even for her. 


	4. GreenEyed Monster

Living the Legend Chapter IV: Green-Eyed Monster Marie McKinnon  
  
She really noticed the difference between the way Dean treated her and the way Draco had. Parvati and Lavender had been on the mark when they'd told her he was sweet; she saw his bashfully smiling face waiting for her after classes several times a day. In return, she urged him to go ahead and get to his next lesson to avoid punishment for being late.  
  
Harry and Dean had a majority of their classes together, along with Ron, Hermione, and the other seventh years, sometimes including Ginny. She had been moved up in quite a few lessons, like Charms and Defence Against the Dark Arts (little wonder). Dean gladly kicked Seamus out of his customary seat to let Ginny sit next to him, where she felt prickles running up the back of her neck from the glares Harry was giving her. Scribbling madly for the utterly boring Defence professor, she wished he would just come out and say it. He thought he deserved her, not Dean, and certainly not Malfoy. Considering that he hadn't explained to the latter yet, she disagreed fervently.  
  
She had become increasingly powerful using Morgan's charm, letting it burn icily at her throat while she performed some difficult feat of magic. Her supply of magical daggers grew by the day, as did the rift among all three mages. Their practises had become unusually quiet despite the clanging of metal and frequent explosions. Silence hung over the room, poised and ready to capture anyone who succumbed to the tense atmosphere.  
  
Though their personal relationships were slowly dripping away, they had learned to efficiently help each other. Draco, being the best fencer, tutored Harry, who helped analyze Ginny's magic, who aided both boys with their small explosions and losses of control. Draco was having more of these, being extremely tired and plagued by surreal, restless dreams.  
  
Most of these involved Ginny, though he was decidedly closemouthed about the whole matter. From the simplest things, like her hair, her voice, or her smile, his mental torment escalated to an agonizing level. They danced, but she called him Harry repeatedly, though he didn't resemble the Boy Who Lived in any way. He kissed her, only to watch her sadden and turn away to Dean. Once he dreamt of their confrontation in the library, but instead of telling him she loved him, she gave a haughty laugh and stalked out to Gryffindor Tower. He hid his sleeplessness, but his state of mind confronted him every time he saw her, arm in arm with that football fanatic Thomas.  
  
Speaking of Thomases, Nott was very excited at this turn of events. Three together or even two together are stronger than three separately, as Voldemort knew, and he cackled with maniacal glee at their weakness. He pressed his advantage, planning and recruiting more warriors, with or without the help of the Dementors and the giants. That fool Hagrid had gotten to them first, something he would never forgive himself for.  
  
Having hoodwinked Hagrid and Hogwarts before, he had immediately assumed it would be only too simple to make a repeat performance. Imagine his fury when it became clear that not only was "that Muggle-loving fool" all too aware of his part in the attacks on the school, but had gotten into contact with the giants and Dementors before he could. For an evil overlord with unbelievable magical powers and a grip on immortality, that had to be humiliating.  
  
*  
  
"Ginny just sit down, please!" Lavender said in exasperation. They had been making fruitless attempts at getting her clothes in order, but when she couldn't decide what she wanted to wear, it managed to get very aggravating very quickly. "You are going," she continued, perusing the selection, "to wear this. Don't look at me like that, it's not freezing out. It's only mid-September, after all." Parvati nodded her agreement.  
  
It wasn't horrible, she had to admit. A tasteful sleeveless shirt and a knee-length black skirt lay against her green coverlet, accompanied by a white silk scarf to drape around her arms and let hang across her back. She returned a moment later and revolved in the centre of the room for her new friends, smiling brightly. The opal gleamed at her throat.  
  
"Now go over there to the vanity table and take your hair down," Parvati ordered, wielding a brush commandingly. The mass of lazy curls tumbled around her head, crimped at the center from the ponytail. "You have to wear it down," she said. "Your hair's gorgeous!"  
  
Ginny shook her head. "It's too heavy and besides, I want to be able to see. I promised Mum I'd wear it down at my wedding, and that'll probably be the last time."  
  
"Fine, but I'm telling you, you ought to wear it down."  
  
"It's my hair, Parvati, not yours. I'd like to wear it up please." She muttered rebelliously to herself, but didn't appear to be anything less than charming. Once finished with a slightly messy bun, she handed the operation over to Lavender, who artistically made a big to-do over making her little charge up.  
  
Once finished, Ginny really couldn't see what their huge fuss had been about. Yes, her eyelashes were more defined and her freckles were a bit more subdued, but other than that, she felt the same. On a spur-of-the- moment idea, she let two curls bob gracefully across her temples and past her cheek. A mental thank-you to Draco for that tip made her squirm inwardly, but she picked up her scarf and hurried down to the common room.  
  
Dean had taken just about as long as she had trying on different sweaters and trousers to see what looked best. He'd finally decided on a white polo shirt, blue-gray pullover jumper, and khaki trousers after much deliberation. There wasn't much to do with his hair, he discovered, and so descended into the Lion's Den with the green-eyed monster following him every step of the way, though that one was a kitten compared to the one he would soon encounter.  
  
"Hullo," she said, smiling shyly. He looked very handsome, she realized, as though she'd been putting away that notion for a special occasion. The colour of his jumper matched his eyes almost exactly.  
  
"Are you ready to leave?" Dean finally managed, staring. She nodded, wrapped the scarf more tightly around her arms, and headed out the portrait hole.  
  
Ten minutes later she was preparing to murder Lavender and Parvati, preferably in a very painful manner, and said as much. "I hope you don't mind dating a murderer," she muttered. "I'm going to kill Parvati and Lavender for telling me it wouldn't be cold. It's mid-September, they said. I believe they forgot that it's mid-September in ruddy *Scotland,* which is quite a bit colder than anywhere in England."  
  
He silently thanked Lavender and Parvati for convincing Ginny to wear such a becoming outfit. "Here, d'you want my sweater?" He asked, starting to pull it off.  
  
"No, it's all right, we're nearly there and it'll be warm inside. Thanks for offering, though." Almost automatically his arm went around her shoulders, both to keep her warmer and to pull the slim figure closer to him. They entered the dancefloor that way, blinking from the sudden light. Dean hung her scarf up in a safe place, then led her by the hand onto the polished wood floor.  
  
"D'you know the swing, or should I try to teach you?" He asked, grinning.  
  
Suddenly very bashful, she replied, "I'd like to learn, but you don't have to go to any trouble, really." Before she'd even gotten to the 'really' Dean had begun to teach her the basic step, watching her feet. Luckily for him she was a very quick learner and got it after only two repetitions.  
  
For over an hour they swung, spun, and laughed. Despite the fact that she hadn't known how to dance properly, Ginny was easily the better of the two. She was mentally ready for anything, even the complex turns he dreamed up. Her memory held up well under the addition of several new variations until a different sort of music played. Glad for a respite from the rapidity of the swing music, they entered into a slower movement, revolving on the spot.  
  
The hand that had been lightly resting below her shoulder blade slipped down to her waist, soon joined by his other. She realized in a moment what he was doing and linked her hands behind his neck. A breath he hadn't known he was holding was released in a relaxed sigh, blowing some of his breath onto her upturned face and ruffling her curls.  
  
She couldn't help smiling. It was infectious, almost like laughing or yawning. His eyes glittered happily, shining even in the dark, and his exuberant grin was sigh-worthy. Without realising it, she analyzed him, from his dark brown hair to his speech. He was handsome, that went without saying, and clearly attentive. Playing football for so long had made him agile, which was probably why he was such a graceful dancer. She must have seemed hopefully content, because he leaned in a bit and caught her lips gently. Drawn into his strong hold, she reveled in his warmth and the amazing softness of his jumper.  
  
Taking her willingness for consent, he held her longer, waiting until he saw spots of fire on his eyelids to take a breath. A moment later he kissed her again, inwardly warm and satisfied. She just seemed to fit into his arms, and he loved that feeling.  
  
Ginny enjoyed it for only so long. She could almost feel the eyes boring into her back and neck, sending cold shivers not just up and down her spine, but through her skeleton and even into her mind. It wouldn't have taken an Auror to catch the culprit; she knew as surely as she breathed (or held her breath, considering what she was doing) that *he* was watching her. That brought her back to her senses momentarily, as she was in Dean's comfortable, easy presence, and knew she would need to breathe in a few seconds. She smiled at him once more, pleased to know that he had only one large flaw.  
  
He wasn't Draco Malfoy.  
  
A/N: I like Dean, don't you? Go West Ham! Anyway, I know that in the HP movie they had him played by a black, but there was no mention of that in the book, so I left him Caucasian. Not that I have anything against blacks, I just wanted to go by the books. Of course, if I've made a mistake, I'm sure you won't hesitate to correct me. 


	5. Oh Potter, You Rotter

Living the Legend Chapter V: Oh Potter, You Rotter. Marie McKinnon  
  
The fire in the Gryffindor common room was still burning brightly when Dean and Ginny arrived, ruddy from the cold outside and brimming with excitement. It was much before curfew, only half past nine o'clock, and they decided not to go to bed yet.  
  
"Excuse me for a moment while I change my shoes. These aren't mine and they don't fit properly," she explained with a little grimace.  
  
Upstairs, she hastily removed her shoes, replacing them with slippers, which were completely devoid of rabbits or fuzzy fabric. Splashing water on her face, she was relieved to see her freckles again. It had been queer knowing they were hard to see. Before she could escape again, Lavender and Parvati came in, giggling, as usual.  
  
"You looked like you were having fun," one of them said slyly. Ginny couldn't see them because she was wiping her face off with a fluffy hand towel from the bathroom.  
  
With all the goop off of her face, she felt a bit more polite. "Pardon?"  
  
"You and Dean seemed to have had a good time of it."  
  
"Oh, yes, he's quite a good dancer," she replied, trying to make it past them and downstairs to the common room. No such luck. Sitting down, she sighed and asked grumpily "I did have fun, thank you for helping me get ready, may I please leave now?"  
  
"We just thought you'd like to know about your brother," Parvati said, grinning in her we're-going-to-tell-the-whole-school manner.  
  
"Which one? I have six brothers."  
  
She rolled her eyes. "The only one at this school, you twit. Ron went to the dance with Hermione! It was adorable, they really look cute together."  
  
It was Ginny's turn to roll her eyes. "I can't believe it took them that long. Ron's fancied Hermione for ages, and she's fancied him for ages as well. I may send an owl to Fred and George, however; they'll be delighted. They were starting to worry about his sanity."  
  
Her fiendish grin was still in place when she returned to the common room. Dean had removed his sweater, not needing it by the fire, and unbuttoned the collar. He patted the empty space next to him on the couch, indicating that she was welcome to sit there, and smiled his perfect smile.  
  
"Sorry, the gossip machines took me hostage for a few minutes. I would have been down sooner." She explained, returning the smile.  
  
"The--which?"  
  
"Parvati and Lavender. They wanted to talk about Ron and Hermione. Did he tell you he'd asked her?"  
  
He nodded. "He was really excited, but everyone else was in the 'took-you-long-enough' phase, even Harry."  
  
"Speaking of Harry," she said, "did you see him at Hogsmeade?" Hoping her face wasn't too pink, she let him scoot over closer to her. He was warm and soft, even without his sweater, and he draped his arm over her shoulders.  
  
"Mmm-hmm," he murmured lazily, not wanting to do any strenuous thinking when he could relax comfortably, his girlfriend by his side and a nice fire warming them both. Not being unbelievably stupid, however, he could sense that Ginny was at least a little bit curious. "He was arguing with Malfoy. Looked really angry. Remind me to kill Malfoy, by the way, he was staring at you all night."  
  
She felt like rolling her eyes and giving him a sarcastic "I'd noticed," but she didn't, praying that Harry had followed her orders. Dean was so different from Draco; he was warm in everything he did. His smiles were so warm they almost melted you, he spoke warmly and enthusiastically instead of sarcastically, his kisses sent extra warmth down to your toes, and sitting next to him was so warm and cozy that she almost fell asleep. There was no thrill, no ice-cold battle of wits that gave her the pleasure of competition and intelligence, and certainly no evil danger hanging over his head. It was nice, comforting, but it would get very boring, very quickly. For the time being she was content to burrow into his side, close her eyes, and let the heat seep into her bones.  
  
"Ginny?" He whispered, nudging her in the ribs. Her pretty eyes opened sleepily, and she blinked several times before smiling at him and apologizing for having dozed off. "Do you know why Malfoy was staring at you?"  
  
"Because he detests me and wishes I would wither and die?" She suggested, laughing.  
  
Dean joined in, but became serious. "Possibly that, though I can't imagine how anyone could hate you. I think Malfoy's jealous, and he was a great prat to let you go. Well," he continued, leaning a little closer, "his loss is my gain, after all."  
  
"Mm," she agreed, then yawned.  
  
"Somebody needs to go to bed."  
  
With a remark that sounded amazingly like "mmrph," she allowed herself to be given a hand up and walked to the girls' staircase. She turned to go to her dormitory when he asked reproachfully "Don't I get a goodnight kiss?" Turning around, she pecked him on the forehead, a benevolent smile on her face.  
  
Before she was allowed to depart, he bent over and kissed her lazily beaming mouth thoroughly, pulling her slight figure closer to his soft heat. They stood there, illuminated by the firelight, eyes shut with pleasure and mouths locked together. She felt toasty warm and loved to her smallest toe. His soft lips were neither aggressive nor penetrating, just relishing her taste and the delicate hint of perfume she wore on her slender neck that had mingled with the sweetness of her mouth. He was reluctant to let her go, but he did, backing away with a lopsided grin.  
  
He smiles almost too often to be true, she thought, but caught sight of a coppery head and gasped. "Is Ron--"  
  
"He's busy romancing Hermione," Dean laughed quietly, watching Ron looking at his girlfriend, desperately attempting to say something and flushing a never-before-seen shade of scarlet.  
  
"Goodnight, then."  
  
"G'night."  
  
*  
  
Draco lay on his elegant four poster, unable to sleep. His mind was whirling over what that git Potter had confessed to, and how badly he had treated poor Ginny. Imagine, she had gone to speak to them, and suddenly, bam, Potter was on top of her. Almost before she could speak he was kissing her hard and she couldn't breathe. He'd knocked the wind out of her when he'd pounced, then didn't let her get it back. So as he himself had arrived, seeing Ginny being snogged senseless by that ignoramus, she was fighting, writhing, trying to avoid Potter and get her breath back. How stupid he'd been!  
  
She had watched his expression as she'd entered the dance floor, seeing a mixture of loathing and amazement. With a wrench he'd seen that two curls dangled across her forehead. She'd been just as beautiful as before, but distant, out of his reach. He could wish and hope to hold her, but he wouldn't. You only get one chance, he thought with disgust, and I royally fouled mine up.  
  
"Oh Potter, you rotter, just look what you've done," he sang under his breath, remembering the ditty Peeves had written during the attacks by the Monster of Slytherin. "You're killing off students, you think it's good fun."  
  
Would she still be awake? Looking at the antique clock on the wall, he saw that it was only ten o'clock. ~Ginny?~ He probed into the darkness of her mind, hoping to get an answer that was neither scathing nor sarcastic.  
  
~Whom do I have the pleasure of addressing?~ She asked, knowing very well that it had to be Draco. After all, how many students at Hogwarts had a mental link that allowed them to communicate through telepathy?  
  
She was still Ginny, despite her recent misadventures in romance. ~Draco. Draco Malfoy.~  
  
~You dolt, how many Dracos can there be?~ Adding on an inspiration, she sent ~So, 007, what's your mission now?~  
  
~To apologize to the girl I love, but who's 007?~  
  
He could almost feel her shrug. ~Some Muggle character. He's a British spy who always introduces himself as "Bond. James Bond." Hermione told me,~ she explained.  
  
~Ah. Well, I talked to Potter this evening, and he had several interesting things to say. So do I. When you were dancing with Dean, it was just--horrible. Awful. Agonizing.~  
  
~He's a very good dancer,~ she said, defending her boyfriend. ~It wasn't *that* bad.~ She was nearly laughing, positive that wasn't what he meant and trying to disorient him.  
  
He raised his eyebrows for no one to see. ~I choose to ignore that. Potter said I was mistaken. He was grudging about it, but he told the truth. Unless you didn't throw yourself at him wearing a Tahitian bikini? I jest! I jest!~ He added quickly, not sure he would weather the outrage she would express after that statement. ~You were waiting for him to come in, but I suppose the rash imbecile thought someone on his bed had to be an intruder trying to murder him, so he pounced. He listened a little too hard to Moody, constant vigilance and all that. Once realisation hit, the opportunity was too good to pass up, so he kissed you. And kissed you. And snogged some for good measure. Right so far?~  
  
~Quite, though if you want me to wear a Tahitian bikini, all you have to do is ask.~  
  
Mental images of Ginny lounging by the lake in minuscule swimming costumes flashed through his mind, and he started to drool. What he said was different, however. ~I'll take you up on that. So you didn't do anything wrong, and I have to apologise for bellowing at you. I'm amazingly sorry. I'm on my knees, so you know, and I beg you to forgive me for being an idiot and believing what I saw out of context. I said I love you; that's forever, and it's been more than obvious lately. So will you come with me to Hogsmeade before Hallowe'en?~  
  
~What would you say if I refused?~  
  
~It doesn't bear repeating.~ His voice was wry.  
  
She grinned. It hadn't been as obvious to her, but she'd been missing that rapier wit. ~I see. I'd better say yes, then, hadn't I?~  
  
~You had, or something extremely awful will happen. I'll have Colin Creevey photograph you in your Tahitian bikini.~  
  
~All right! You don't have to threaten me! I accept.~  
  
~Did you know,~ he continued, ~that your older brother was wrapped around Granger at the dance and acting like a lovesick puppy? It was sweet, in some odd, twisted way.~ With that, he clicked out of the conversation and stared at the ceiling, able to feel his heart being resewn.  
  
Feeling much lighter all of a sudden, he sang "Oh Potter, you rotter, just look what you've done, you're killing of students, you think it's good fun." 


	6. That's Wizard's Chess

Living the Legend Chapter VI: That's Wizard's Chess Marie McKinnon  
  
"Are you sure? If it doesn't work--"  
  
The opal blazed with silver fire. "It will work. Try a fairly powerful spell, but nothing illegal, I think Dumbledore has wards up to warn him of Dark magic. I'm ready."  
  
Harry sighed and pulled out his wand, aiming straight at Ginny's unarmed form. "All right, but you can't wreak revenge on me if I hurt you. Then again, you probably won't remember it. Obliviate!"  
  
Green light flashed towards her, but a dart of silver raced from her pendant, bursting the spell into a shower of green sparks. The magical dagger sped on towards Harry, whose brilliant green eyes were wide behind his glasses. It halted in midair, hovering just in front of Harry's throat. He swallowed hard, then looked up at Ginny, who wore an unbelievably smug, catlike smile.  
  
"Comfortable?" She asked.  
  
He seemed mildly panicked, but had enough composure to reply steadily. "No. Would you please. remove that?"  
  
"As you wish." The surreal blade disappeared into the opal, ready to be re-used if the need arose. Her eyes went blank for a moment as she called Draco. ~Your presence is required immediately in the practise room, sir. Be so kind as to arrive promptly, or you'll have me to deal with.~  
  
~Yes, ma'am,~ he replied.  
  
Less than a moment later he swept into the dungeon, robes over his arm. "I beg your pardon. I had no idea there was a conference."  
  
"You are very much behind the times. I need to inform you--both of you--of Voldemort's secrets. These I came by while I was being enchanted." Her voice became rather strained at that, but she remained poised. "He is the Heir of Slytherin, as you no doubt know, but in that position he has a precedent to live up to. You see, the previous Heirs of Slytherin had died in duels or battle and were always killed by women."  
  
Both boys started. "No," they said in unison, looking first at her, then at each other. "You can't," Harry continued firmly. "He's strong. He'll kill you, and then what good will it do?"  
  
"We will not allow you to attempt to kill Voldemort in single combat," Draco said, now paper white from her suggestion. "I say attempt because there is no way you can be successful. If we try to attack the Dark Lord, we will do so as a group. There's less chance of being brutally murdered that way."  
  
She blinked once very slowly, watching the speaker intently. "You know more on the subject than I do. Would you mind recounting how the previous Heirs died?" There was a definite edge on her voice and her gase never wavered.  
  
"Salazar himself was killed in battle by an enchanted arrow that was later traced to Rowena Ravenclaw. His son duelled his wife to prove his supremacy and was stabbed in the back by a female servant while he was under a particularly painful hex. Most of the later Slytherins were poisoned in their sleep by their daughters or wives, usually with potions created by the Snapes of that time period. He's immensely proud of that lineage, no doubt, though that's beside the point."  
  
"And so I prove my point. Voldemort will not be afraid to duel either of you because he's fairly positive only a woman can kill him. He doesn't fear either of you because, firstly, you aren't women, and secondly, because he can't be killed by weapons or any spells that you are aware of. He poured his secrets into me so I could release the Basilisk, but he put more into me than he at first thought." Ginny was practically radiating power and determination, pacing back and forth, watching the boys with intensely dark eyes.  
  
"As a student he attempted immortality," she continued. "Most of his theories were based on the idea that magic never dies, and if he could keep his magic alive, he would be immortal. We have the authority of the recent Muggle killings and of Harry that he has been brought back. I am fairly positive of his method."  
  
"Well?" Harry said, between eagerness and disinterest.  
  
"He transfigured his heart into a magical object rather than a part of the human anatomy. It channels his power, renewing it so he can stay alive. That explains his deathly pale complexion and red eyes. We need to arrange it so either one of you will duel Voldemort and maneuver him so I am behind. I will manage to aim straight for his 'heart' and, once that is destroyed, he will run out of magic and die."  
  
There was an eerie silence, not at all aided by the heaviness of the air in the dungeon. "We should prepare for a skirmish of some sort before we attempt to kill him ourselves. From what I've read in the Prophet, the Death Eaters are moving towards Hogwarts and will surely engage in combat. Once we get out of that alive, we can make plans," Draco said finally, sounding exhausted. The others agreed in a daze, disturbed by a sudden sinking feeling in their stomachs that was definitely not caused by the rock cakes they'd shared with Hagrid earlier in the day.  
  
* She sat, worn out from her confession, on a plump couch with Ron. Harry stared at the chess board so seriously that she had begun to fear that it would explode. Finally, after what seemed to be moments of deep contemplation, he directed his castle to move sideways five spaces to block the queen, who immediately moved forwards and dragged him off the board.  
  
"Check," Ron said quietly, regarding the chess board as one would regard a battlefield. Ginny followed his eyes through the lines of power and influence, noticing his strategy. A sudden idea occurred to her, and she waited patiently for Harry to move his king out of reach of the queen, right into the clutches of a waiting bishop. "Check and mate."  
  
They cleared the board together, preparing to put it away, but she said "Ron, I'd like some advice. I want to play chess against Hermione, and she's very good, at least compared to me. She always manages to get me down to two pawns, a bishop, a castle, a knight, a queen, and a king. If she were to circle my castle, which is my favourite piece and the one that must be defended, how would I protect it without sacrificing the knight, queen, or king?" Her hands moved deftly over the board, placing the pieces and handing Ron her knight, queen, and king.  
  
He studied it for a moment, then asked "D'you want to move the castle?"  
  
"It'd take too much power to move Hog--I mean, no, I don't. Besides, it's pretty well surrounded. She gets it in the middle of a semi-circle."  
  
"I know Hermione," he said, "and when she plays, she only focuses on one thing at a time. If she's intent on your castle, she won't notice the knight, queen, or king. You can keep them in a triangle formation that will prevent anything from getting at them. Then attack her pieces one at a time, not all at once. Get into places where she can't get you back, especially if they're spread out in a line. Tell me how it goes next time, all right?"  
  
She grinned, partly at the simplicity of deceiving her brother and partly at having gotten such a good strategy. "Thanks. I'll remember that."  
  
"You have to watch the pieces, too," he added. "They sometimes try to do what they want. That's wizard's chess, after all."  
  
"Thanks," she repeated, going upstairs to record the information.  
  
Once in her dormitory, she was struck by a bit of annoyance. There were Lavender and Parvati, reading magazines, giggling, and eating Chocolate Frogs. Did they ever leave? And could they possibly stop giggling? Ignoring them, she pulled out her black leather notebook, a quill, and an ink bottle, then began to write down Ron's idea as quickly as possible to avoid forgetting it. The end result was having to re-copy it because the first draft was illegible. She finished it in less than ten minutes, complete with diagrams of the battlefield.  
  
"Ginny, d'you want a Chocolate Frog? We're full," Parvati said, stopping giggling long enough to speak properly.  
  
She shut her black book with a muffled snap. "Yes, please," she replied, and caught the flying package easily. Biting the head off with relish, she pulled out the card and nearly choked on her mouthful.  
  
"Who'd you get?" Lavender asked, noticing her somewhat violent reaction.  
  
"Morgan Le Fay."  
  
"Oooh!" Parvati squealed. "I've not seen her. Pass it here, will you?"  
  
Praying they didn't know too much about Morgan, she did so, putting on an air of nonchalance. They looked from the card to Ginny, back to the card, and back to Ginny before saying anything. "She could be your twin," Lavender finally said. "She's even got the same necklace."  
  
"Oh?"  
  
One of them rolled her eyes. "Didn't you look at it? There's an amazing resemblance." She passed it back so Ginny could agree, and she did, though it was strained. Morgan's moving picture had the same catlike smile, red curls, dark, intelligent eyes, and pert nose that Ginny saw in the mirror every morning. All you had to do was subtract the freckles and there she was. The opal didn't exactly help, either.  
  
"Wow," she said. "I had no idea. That's amazing, really, how someone who's been dead for at least a thousand years can look so much like a teenage girl. D'you want it, or may I keep it?"  
  
"You go ahead. I already have too many."  
  
Smiling her thanks, she sent an urgent call to Draco. ~I've got a Chocolate Frog card,~ she said.  
  
~Only one? I've got about eight hundred.~  
  
Rolling her eyes, she tried to explain. ~No, you dolt, I mean Morgan Le Fay has a Chocolate Frog card. I nearly spat out the chocolate when I saw the name, and Parvati and Lavender were right, she looks almost exactly like me. What if someone else in the school gets this card and notices the resemblance?~  
  
~Look, we've got more important things to worry about than the number of people in this school who eat Chocolate Frogs. We haven't got a battle plan, and we're going to need one quickly.~  
  
~Ah, but we do have a battle plan,~ she said smugly. ~I enlisted Ron's help.~  
  
~WHAT?! You told Ron what we're--~  
  
~I got him to help me without his even knowing it. I maneuvered the pieces on the chess board to represent the most likely scenario, and asked him how we'd be able to protect the castle without sacrficing a knight, king, or queen. All we have to do is stick together and go after people one at a time. Stay out of the immediate battle so they don't see us right away and sort of pick them off. If we're lucky, the Death Eaters will disobey Voldemort and do what they think will work, which gives us a chance to be even more obscured.~ She read off out of her notebook, then added, ~I've got diagrams, if you want to see them later.~  
  
~You got all that from a chess game?~  
  
Her smile was even more catlike than Morgan's as she replied ~That's wizard's chess.~ 


	7. Rise And Sieze the Day

Living the Legend Chapter VII: Rise and Sieze the Day Marie McKinnon  
  
Ron's advice had come none too soon. The next morning more than a hundred sleepy-eyed, dazed children groggily stirred their porridge, drank their pumpkin juice, and accidentally spilled toast crumbs all over their robes. Not even the rush of owls woke them from their early stupor.  
  
Hermione, who was more awake than the average student, noticed an anomaly in the general flight pattern. A falcon soared against the tide of owls to perch on Professor Dumbledore's chair, fierce eyes blinking against the candlelight. Its message delivered, it spread its tremendous wings, beat them against the air, and began its flight. Almost unnoticeable sparks poured off of its wings, and on hitting the ground, burst into hazy clouds of dark mist that finally succeeded in rousing the children. A resoundingly harsh scream echoed in the Great Hall for moments afterwards, soon copied by the terrified multitudes of students.  
  
They yelled, screamed, and generally carried on until Dumbledore rose from his chair and quelled the gathering storm with a large burst of fireworks from his wand and a deep bellow.  
  
"SILENCE!"  
  
Shockingly, the school went dead silent in less time than it takes to tell it. Prefects with more presence of mind than their fellow students cleared away the befuddling mist and directed their attention to the Headmaster.  
  
"I have received a message," he began in thunderous tones, spreading all over the tense student body, "from a representative of the Dark Lord himself." There was nothing less than instant pandemonium.  
  
Panic spread with more speed than a rumor, gripping with ice cold fingers every being in that hall. Younger children cried out for their parents, older students pulled out their wands as though Voldemort were standing in the room, and the teachers grabbed for the letter Dumbledore held. Words not meant to be heard in the hallowed halls of learning were whispered in shock by students and adults alike. Only three people in the room stayed silent, but one of them decided to do something about it.  
  
"SILENCIEUS!" Draco bellowed at the room in general, putting out almost every voice in the room. "You will remain silent and listen to your Headmaster, under a spell if necessary," he continued. "It is highly unlikely that Voldemort will take any action in the next 30 seconds, so Professor Dumbledore can continue explaining the situation. A joint prefect's and teacher's meeting will be held after the meal is over. All other students will be asked to exit as quickly and *quietly* as possible."  
  
Dumbledore nodded his consent. "Thank you, Draco. It is imperative that none of you create the least disorder while I finish reading the message. Your prefects, teachers, Head Boy and Girl," he nodded at Draco and Hermione respectively, "and I will take the utmost caution in pursuing this matter, but first you must understand what the matter is.  
  
"Three students seated in this room right now are wanted by the Dark Lord. If you do not turn yourselves in by sunset tonight, the school will be attacked." There was a collective gasp from the group, but none of them could speak, so it went unnoticed. "Any person who has a view on this choice is welcome to speak out now. Finite Incantatem!"  
  
A Ravenclaw stood immediately and put up a hand for silence. "Why does You-Know-Who want these three people, and who are they?"  
  
Ginny froze. She would not be responsible for more innocent deaths, children's deaths, at the hands of Death Eaters. Her powers had been rewarded to her for the sole purpose of keeping them safe, never mind whether she would live. She tuned the rest of her surroundings out and watched her life end before she'd had a chance to even graduate from school.  
  
"They know who they are, though it is not specified exactly why he wants them. We must assume the worst."  
  
Several Slytherins explained their belief in the need to protect the rest of the school and suggested that they would all be much safer without the three specified students. What were three lives when compared to 200?  
  
The arguments went in that vein for quite some time before Ron Weasely stood, the first Gryffindor to do so. "I speak for my entire house," he said regally, "and we all refuse to allow such things to occur. Those three lives must be valued above our own for You-Know-Who to want them more than the lives of any other person sitting here. They are obviously dangerous to His conquest, so they are dear to us. Can any of us sit here and allow three people who may have the abilities to save the wizarding world be mercilessly killed because we don't want to have to do anything? Whatever the rest of the school says, Gryffindor will defend it rather than surrender its own." He sat down to a roar of applause from the rest of his house and an impressed expression on Dumbledore's face.  
  
"Thank you, Gryffindor, we will take that into consideration. Is there a representative from Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, or Slytherin?"  
  
When it became evident that the situation was a matter of loyalty, Hufflepuff spoke up clearly. "None of us will let the bravery of a few be sacrificed for the good of all," they said, "not when the power of all can protect what we hold dear."  
  
"Tactically, it would be ridiculously stupid to give You-Know-Who what he wants without a fight. He has a reason for wanting them, so we should do everything possible to keep them from him," explained Ravenclaw, who saw it as purely a decision of influence and power.  
  
Dumbledore's serious blue eyes turned to Slytherin for the last agreement. "With the power of public opinion against us, it is difficult to differ," Thomas Nott said finally. "Many of us worry about our safety, which is not likely to be protected by going into battle against ruthless hexes and curses. Still, when explained in that eloquent manner, we cannot help but agree with our Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff cousins; there is a huge advantage waiting for us. If we can defeat the Dark Lord's warriors, it will spur the world on to greater heights."  
  
"Thank you," he replied. "I am deeply touched by the bravery and loyalty you all display in protecting your classmates. They will be in your debt for standing by them in their times of need. It is not without great consideration on this matter that I speak to you, however. This has been expected for a great while, and I believe that our safest mode of protection would be to immediately set stronger wards on the castle. All students in Advanced Charms will be expected to help Professor Flitwick with those wards. Any fifth, sixth, or seventh year who is approved by myself and Professor Snape will be recruited to defend the school. Now, all prefects remain with the Head Boy and Girl. Everyone else is dismissed, saving the teachers, of course."  
  
Draco and Harry remained in the Great Hall, taking their respective seats at the meeting table. Ginny trudged back to Gryffindor tower alone, so silent that it was suspected something had gone wrong in ending the Silencing Spell on her.  
  
*  
  
"Whatever you do, don't allow yourself to be captured." Dumbledore's final words rang between his ears violently. That would wreak utter havoc on their plans, he thought. The battle was being fought to prevent him from being taken by the Dark Lord; imagine the irony if they were captured anyway. He could easily imagine it.  
  
"Draco, are you paying attention?" Harry asked in frustration, going over a diagram once more. "If you aren't, I'm going to have to explain it again, and I don't think either of us could stand it. Now." He continued, ignoring the furious looks coming into his direction from Ginny. She'd tried to express her opinion every time it looked like Harry was going to pause in the midst of his complex explanations, but as soon as she'd opened her mouth, he began to add in more details.  
  
She jerked her head upwards violently as all the papers, books, and symbols tumbled onto the floor and billowed in dust. "Enough. Thank you for explaining everything to us, Harry, but your plan has too many drawbacks to it. You cannot fathom the human mind, and the things it will come up with in terror and stress are amazing. I would therefore propose a different plan." She looked gravely around the rooms. "I propose we surrender ourselves."  
  
"Every person in this school stood up for us this morning, every single one of them is prepared to risk life and limb to protect us. They're giving their blood to save our skins."  
  
"Which is why I think we should turn ourselves in," Ginny explained. "I don't want anyone to get hurt for me. If anything, I should be the one defending myself, not everyone else. I want to save my own skin and let them keep their blood."  
  
"You'll be killed."  
  
Wheels had started to turn in Draco's head. "Not necessarily. You see, the idea of our surrender will make them overconfident. Wouldn't you be, if your worst fear gave up without a fight? They won't harm us right away, partly for the drama of it and partly because they know not to be afraid of us. Most murders are made because of fear, and once you subtract the fear, we have a better chance of surviving."  
  
"And if we don't survive?"  
  
"We died trying," Gin said solemnly.  
  
Harry looked from one to the other, one to the other, one to the other, and sighed. "I see your point. We leave at sunset."  
  
"No," Draco said. "We leave now, or we won't have the courage. Summon a jumper, but don't delay."  
  
They didn't. Ginny cast a stealth spell so they wouldn't be seen or heard in the throngs of teachers crowding the halls and safely navigated them outside the castle. They wove in and out among spell casters, trainers, and administrators who all prepared for a battle that wouldn't come. She saw her brother conversing lightly with Hermione, his arm finally draped around her waist, and her eyes filled with tears. Their long-distant wedding would be missing one participant, one joyous onlooker who wanted nothing more than to give her blessing. Harry, too, seemed decidedly subdued. They took in last breaths of warm Hogwarts air, opened the door, and stepped out.  
  
Cold November winds whipped their faces and eyes, slapping them in the face with dead leaves, small twigs, splinters, and dirt. It hurt badly, seeming to be Nature's reprimand for daring to disobey Dumbledore. We can make it, Ginny told herself, they can't kill us. Her resolutions froze into icy terror when she made out hooded figures against the horizon.  
  
Draco and Harry noticed them seconds after she did and stopped abruptly. The wind blowing in her eyes had somehow made them water profusely, especially when she gave both boys a hug. Her boyfriend kissed her one last time, tasting her salty tears, chapped lips, and chilly skin. Harry began to make indistinct noises in his throat, prompting them to stop. They both reddened slightly. He jammed his hands into his pockets and was reassured by the smooth surface of something he had almost forgotten.  
  
An even more tangible silence descended on the group for the last leg of the journey. Minds numb with the realization that they had trapped themselves in what was possibly the last major decision of their lives, they walked on. Within ten feet of the Death Eaters, the stealth spell fell away, revealing three teenagers.  
  
A smile must have been curling on each hooded face as they advanced, wands ready. "STUPEFY!"  
  
*  
  
"So anyway, we were playing with some of the lawn gnomes once, and Ginny came running out, waving one of their hats and squealing. She'd been experimenting, trying to see if we could play tag with them, and had found out, however she did it, that the lawn gnomes made their clothes out of all the scraps we'd thrown away. The material of the hat was of her favourite blanket that had mysteriously disappeared when she was five!"  
  
Hermione shook her head disapprovingly. "That's ridiculous, Ron. I do believe you're making that up."  
  
"I am not," he said indignantly. "Gin, isn't that--" He looked around, didn't see Ginny, and looked puzzled. "Where is she? I thought she'd come to lunch early, she wasn't in the tower. Well, Harry was there too, and--d***, he's not here either, is he? Maybe Malfoy knows where she is. Is he over there, can you see, Hermione?"  
  
"He's not. Where is everyone?"  
  
Professor Dumbledore watched the Great Hall anxiously, glad to be able to say that the students had unanimously decided to fight. It would be Hogwarts' finest hour, he was sure, and Ginny, Harry, and Draco would be safe. He looked over the table, didn't see any of them, and sent out a scan of the castle. His heart sank.  
  
They were gone. 


	8. Rest In Peace

Living the Legend Chapter VIII: Rest In Peace Marie McKinnon  
  
A/N: This is it, folks. Not only am I ending my series, but this is "The Last of the Fanfictions" for me. I think I need to move on to more challenging work. You haven't seen the last of me, you poor people you, if you read originals too. Without further ado.  
  
"Ennervate."  
  
She opened her eyes, still dozy after Stunning, and tried to rub them. A rough rope inhibited her movements, which she didn't understand. As captive of one of the most magically talented wizards in the history of the world, she was tied to a chair with common, Muggle rope? The Stunning Spell's effects wore off quickly. Her magic wouldn't work as well on something that wasn't magical by nature, and, unlike a spell, all the soreness of binding would remain longer than magical traces.  
  
She saw a smooth stone floor from her studies of her predicament, but was not prepared for any semi-human voices. "Comfortable?" The hissing voice she heard in her worst nightmares asked.  
  
"Very. I expected nothing less than wonderful hospitality from your organization, although they have been known to be a bit barbaric," she replied smoothly, amazed at her own daring. The words had just slipped out while the rest of her body was frozen in fear.  
  
He sat luxuriously in an armchair across the spacious room from Ginny, the perfectly positioned light globe above his head catching the light from his vermilion eyes. "Well, that does explain your cuts. You wouldn't imagine the fun Thomas Nott had tying you up and taking your wand out of your pocket. He was even clumsier than usual."  
  
At the mention of cuts the dried blood on her cheek and collar began to itch almost painfully, then burn with embarrassment as her face turned red. She changed the topic of conversation deftly. "Thank you very much for the invitation to visit you. Should I change for dinner, or is this rough appearance what you were looking for?"  
  
"Stop making a fool of yourself. Tell me everything before I lose patience."  
  
She smiled coquettishly. "I'm sixteen, fit, attractive, I take Year Seven level courses at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and I enjoy--"  
  
"CRUCIO!"  
  
A network of pain filled in every empty space in her body, searing through her stunned mind and bringing one thought to the top: don't scream. Whatever he does, don't scream. Her anguish intensified as wave upon wave of agony poured over her trembling body. She would die, she couldn't do it, her body couldn't take the torture. The world would blacken and vanish, but she would not scream.  
  
It stopped, and she took a large breath. Her muscles vibrated wildly after the strain of aches multiplied infinite times.  
  
~Ginny!~ An anxious mental voice cried, hastening to her side in spirit. ~Are you all right?~  
  
She was relieved beyond belief to hear from Draco, and replied in due turn. ~I will be. Are you and Harry together? I'm in a huge chamber, pillars, raised platform at one end, and I'm the only person here. Voldemort definitely does not qualify as a person, but he's enthroned in a hardback chair on his little stage. Have you any idea where we are?~  
  
~My house. You're probably in the ballroom and Harry and I are in the dungeons. Thomas Nott is guarding us, smug b******. We're all right, no major wounds, though I think they threw us around a bit. Keep him busy for a while, we'll be brought up so he can gloat, I expect.~  
  
~Thanks. I'll do my best to drive whatever of his living daylights are left out of him. Love you,~ she finished, trying to sound relaxed.  
  
~Love you too.~  
  
She sat regally, making the old chair look like a throne, and condescendingly turned her powerful gaze towards Voldemort, who was conversing with a guard. There was something inside her forcing her to act confidently disdainful toward someone who would happily murder her ten thousand ways from next Wednesday. Knowing, as she did, that he was afraid of his mortality did not help, just as a Muggle child telling him or herself that there are no such things as ghosts is still frightened and shaking under their covers.  
  
"You will be the last to die," Voldemort said cruelly. "I'm sure you will enjoy watching your companions fight and lose."  
  
An image flashed through her mind of Draco and Harry lying on the floor in pools of blood and a red-eyed menace advancing on her, a maniacal smile lighting the haggard face. That won't happen, she told herself repeatedly. The huge doors opened soundlessly to reveal a guard of ten tall, cloaked figures and two grave prisoners.  
  
"I have been waiting for this a long time, Harry Potter."  
  
Draco rolled his eyes. "Do I have the honour of being expected, or am I just baggage?" He was shocked. Had he just said that? He had. He had dared to use his proverbially smart mouth in front of the Dark Lord, who would already enjoy cursing him into millions of atoms.  
  
"Your father warned me about you, boy. I will duel you first." Wand out, Voldemort advanced, but Draco had different ideas. He looked at Ginny, who had enchanted his blade, and mentally asked for a quick counter- charm.  
  
His hand went to his left side, grabbed the hilt of an invisible blade, and unsheathed it as it slowly became visible. "Touché." It burned with silver fire, lashing out at the eyes and sending bright flashes of light as it cut through the air.  
  
"Expelliarmus!"  
  
Fear jumped in his hands, but stayed put. White-hot bolts of power grazed his head to convince him to release his weapon, but he did not, holding it tightly and deflecting curse after curse with lightning speed. Unfortunately, they were as potent after being deflected as they were when initially cast. Eight of the ten Death Eaters now guarding Harry were struck down with painful curses.  
  
An unrelenting barrage of the two lesser Unforgivable Curses flew at him from four directions at once. He missed the last one, the Cruciatus Curse, and doubled up in pain. His contortions were too much for Harry, who let a stream of silver fire bathe the antagonist in its fiery glitter. Letting out an unearthly shriek, he ended the curse and watched Draco get shakily to his feet.  
  
Voldemort's eyes flared with anger. "Very well. I will give you something you cannot send at my followers." He paused to let the implications sink in, his back to Ginny.  
  
In that half second a frenzied half hour of untying the knots in her rope came into play. They fell slack around her, allowing her to stand up slowly, burning with the flame of righteous anger. One of the remaining Death Eaters aimed his wand at her, and she realised before she cast her silent spell that it was Thomas Nott. He crumpled to the ground with a muffled thud, but his master's high, cold voice interrupted the sound.  
  
"This moment is for Dominic, entombed in Azkaban, and your father, who needs to see his past mistakes corrected. Avada--"  
  
Draco waited for his demise to be sentenced with the final syllables and let his terror take full possession of him. He bowed his head in acceptance of death, internally begging for mercy or just five minutes of life, five minutes to say goodbye to everything he loved. Seconds later he raised his eyes and saw, beyond a shadow of a doubt, a magical glimmer embedded in the skeletally thin torso.  
  
A chain reaction occurred with the destruction of Voldemort's magical power source. All the recycled magic he had used built up and exploded, leaving nothing but a crumpled black robe on the floor.  
  
"Stop right there," Ginny said harshly, whirling to face the last Death Eater. "Petrificus Totalus! Stupefy!"  
  
With the rigid snap of a tensed figure hitting the sleek wooden floor, her composure vanished. "We did it," she whispered, looking at the mass of black cloaks. "We really did it." Tears spilled down her cheeks like a much-needed rain that flooded her with relief.  
  
"I can't believe it," Harry echoed. "He's dead. We've done away with the single most evil wizard in the history of the magical world."  
  
"No need to get all excited," Draco said sarcastically, as if the deficit of excited screaming made him ill. They stood together in the middle of the room, still astounded, when they heard a small pop.  
  
Dumbledore and several terrified Aurors appeared. They turned around to survey the extent of the work done, and stared at Ginny, Draco, and Harry.  
  
"I expect to find three bodies and am greeted with eleven," the elderly Headmaster said in somber tones. "Three teenagers have done what scores of mature wizards have never managed, even with all the help the Fates could give them. All the world is indebted to you for the great deed you have done."  
  
The serious words lifted them beyond the skies. They were singlehandedly responsible for the demise of public enemy number one and the capture of his followers, and were being recognised as heroes.  
  
"It's what we were meant to do," Harry finally said.  
  
A few moments of awe descended upon the room before the Aurors remembered their duties. "When we've done transporting the prisoners, we will accompany you to Hogwarts. Stay somewhere out of the way."  
  
Dumbledore took up his wand and moved away to help the Aurors, his long green robes sweeping over the wand that had killed so many, including Harry's parents.  
  
In the shadows, Ginny put a gentle finger to her cuts and bruises. "I feel horrible," she tried to say, but it wasn't true. Even through layers of dust and dirt, her excitement shone vividly in her movements.  
  
"You've never looked more beautiful," Draco said, kneeling. He brought a blue velvet box from the depths of his pockets and snapped it open. "Will you do me an even greater service than you've done just now, and marry me?" An exquisite diamond ring sparkled in the box.  
  
"Yes," she breathed, and buried herself in his open arms. "There is nothing that could make this moment any better," she murmured into his ear as he slid the ring onto her left ring finger.  
  
Draco leaned over her and placed a gentle, soft kiss on her upturned mouth. She smiled contentedly into his kiss and drew away slowly.  
  
"Well, there's always that."  
  
And so we have it. Our story began with a dream and ended with a dream come true. 


End file.
